


To Curse or Not to Curse

by HufflePufflePocalypse



Series: Adventures in the Life of a Teenage Witch [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (not the creepy kind), Gen, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Spells Gone Wrong, Worldbuilding, discussion of curses (but not in an evil way), nothing really intense I promise, pretty lighthearted, spellcasting/charming, witchcraft (the fun kind)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-23 20:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12515664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflePufflePocalypse/pseuds/HufflePufflePocalypse
Summary: 15-year-old witch Arachne is no stranger to magic. With a mother who runs the local Spellcasting Ingredient shop and a grandmother who literally wrote The Book on Cursing, expectations are high for Arachne's future in the world of enchantments. Much to her mother's chagrin however, Arachne has fallen in love with the Charming aspect of spellcasting, and has no desire to dabble in Cursing. With mounting pressure to be more like her grandmother, will Arachne find a way to live up to those expectations without sacrificing her magic in the process?





	1. Charming Indeed

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably gonna be a short story, but I've already got ideas spinning for additions to a series, so keep your eyes peeled for more works coming in the next couple days!  
> I'm always grateful for constructive criticism, but keep it nice please! If you can't be polite, keep it to yourself~  
> Thank you for checking this out, by the way. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The charm bubbled enthusiastically, spraying glitter, and Arachne leapt backwards with a cry, arms windmilling to maintain her balance. 

“No, no, no!” she sputtered, teetering back on her heels and then forwards, righting herself. Brown eyes flicked frantically to the printed sheet of instructions, _An Easy Guide to Perma-Fume: Making Your Own Long-Lasting Perfume_ , which fluttered nervously in the breeze she’d made. “Come on, why is it doing this?” The mixture continued to boil, and at her distracted hand motion a lid descended, containing the flyaways and muffling the sound. She scanned the instructions again, flipping the pages over rapidly as she searched for what might have gone wrong. The cauldron, a cutesy porcelain one she’d purchased from Broomsticks and Beyond, shifted back and forth as the charm began to boil more violently, bubbles pushing at the lid insistently. 

“Maybe it’s just too hot?” she questioned, looking over at the lazy cat that was sprawled across her window seat. Her familiar mewed casually, seeming unimpressed with her efforts, and flicked his tail. In response, the purple flames below the cauldron shivered and shrank. “Thank you for all of your _help_ , Velcro.” Arachne sniffed, turning back to her instructions. Velcro just huffed and turned back to the sunlight, eyes closing in nonchalance. 

Minutes passed by in relative quiet, the silence broken only by Arachne flipping through the pages with growing agitation. Her eyes skimmed the list of ingredients one more time, and she realized that hidden amid the swirls of looping text was an ingredient she had not used: toad’s drool. She turned back to the ingredients she had brewed with, still sitting nearby on the counter, and groaned at the sight of a pie tin full of toadstools. 

“Velcro, I may have made a mistake…” she started meekly, eyeing the boiling glamour charm that was now pressurized inside her favorite cauldron. The cat jolted at that, jumping to his feet and scurrying under the bed with an apprehensive hiss. Arachne scowled, sticking out her tongue. 

“Fraidy-cat,” she muttered under her breath, turning back to the cauldron. Cautiously, she reached for her charmed oven mitts, woven to protect her from any unwanted side-effects of potions gone awry. She murmured the command and the purple flames died completely, though the enchanted coals still smoldered. No sooner did her mitts brush the edge of the cauldron than the pressure burst, the lid flying off as foul-smelling glitter rained all over the room. Arachne could not hold in her yelp as the glass cover hit the ceiling, embedding itself next to her floating wisp-o’-lamp. With the pressure released, the potion stilled, bubbling moodily and then quieting all together as the liquid hardened into a chalky black substance that she just knew would be a pain to wash out of the cauldron later. Before she had time to pull the lid out of the ceiling, the door slammed open, and she flinched. 

“Arachne, what the devil is going on in here?!” Her mother roared, hair fluffing up not unlike a frazzled cat. The woman’s green eyes flew around the room momentarily, taking in the situation and stopping on the printed instructions in Arachne’s hands. “You’re playing around with spells from that stupid blogger again, aren’t you!?” She stormed in, snatching the paper from Arachne and burning it in green flames before her daughter could protest. After a brief moment of stillness, a piece of plaster fell from the ceiling to her right and she glowered. 

"I’ve told you again and again, that’s not real spellcasting. If you want to get better at magic, you need to stop fooling around with all this sunshine and butterfly crap!” The older witch spied the new cauldron and wrinkled her nose. She pulled a thick spellbook off of the top shelf where it had been abandoned, shoving it in Arachne’s arms. The force of the push made Arachne stumble backwards, eyes widening in fright, and her mother’s eyes softened. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“I’m sorry for yelling,” she said after a moment of silence had passed. “But…we both know you have so much potential. I wish you’d start using it.” The woman gestured to the rest of the room, to the fluffy carpet, the cheery yellow walls, the mound of stuffed animals piled onto Arachne’s bed. “I thought this would just be a phase.” Her hands, no longer trembling in anger, cupped her daughter’s face gently, and Arachne sighed, leaning absently into her touch. “And I worry about you,” she admitted a moment later, smiling in spite of the worry lines between her eyebrows. “There’s so much more to spells than charming. And I know once you start cursing you’ll never want to stop; it’s so fun.” Arachne nodded absently, looking away. 

“I’ll try a couple spells from the book,” she promised quietly. “I know it means a lot to you, since you and Grandma Poppy wrote it.” Their eyes met and her mother gave a teary smile. 

“Thank you sweetheart. Just try it. That’s all I ask.” More plaster fell from above and her mother stepped around the growing pile on the floor, backing out of the room meekly.“Sorry for storming in. I’ll leave you to the clean-up.” She began to close the door gently. “Love you, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re alright.” When the door clicked shut, Arachne sighed, glancing around her room as Velcro crept out from under the bed. 

“Alright is one word for it.” 


	2. A Promise Kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Sorry about not updating sooner, but at least it's here now, right? I'll try to have chapter three up in the next couple days. Enjoy~

The bag tied itself shut while Arachne brushed the last of the plaster dust off of her hands, the mess from her earlier mishap all cleaned up. The telltale purple splash of Velcro’s magic pushed the garbage bag through the opened window, and it fell with a thump into the garbage can outdoors. With his contribution complete, Velcro yawned and stretched, padding back over to the patch of sunlight and curling up lazily. 

Arachne let her hands drop, no longer dusty, against her skirt and apron. The family spell book sat discarded on her bedspread, and she could see vines of inky black magic seeping into her covers. With a yelp, she snatched the book up, the vines withering and hardening before they could stain the yellow fabric of her comforter. She brushed them off with a sigh, the stale magic falling like dead leaves to the carpet. She sighed, glancing back at the book after a moment.

It was heavy in her hands, and warm, almost as if it was alive. Beneath the locked cover, she could feel the pages shivering with ill-contained power, the excess energy spells produced turning the air around the book thick and hot. The cover was worn and weathered, with her grandmother’s name in silvery letters, and her mother’s name in green. Two little illustrated cats wandered leisurely across the cover, batting at the letters with flattened paws and meowing silently. One cat, her grandmother’s familiar, was the same ghostly silver as the letters of her name, the color of fading magic. The other, Theo, was her mother’s familiar put down in ink, with green eyes that flashed pointedly. He stared Arachne down, refusing to let her bury her guilt. Arachne looked away first, frowning and running her thumb along the edges of pages. 

The magic in the book felt weighted, overwhelming. It was entirely different from the relief that came when she charmed things. Her hands trembled slightly and Velcro mewed, climbing to his feet. He pressed his side against her leg, tail lashing in concern as he tried to alleviate her distress. Even as Velcro tried to get her attention however, Theo stared her down, gazing at her piercingly. His ears flicked, as if daring her. 

_You promised her._

And the promise of a witch was not to be taken lightly.

Arachne swallowed, trying to ignore the way her insides quaked and cold shadow crept up through her body. If this would make her mom happy, then she would try it. Velcro   
pressed harder against her and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. 

“I promised,” she said shakily, steeling her resolve. Her fingers clenched around the cover of the book, the shaking subsiding as resignation cooled her blood. She inhaled deeply, cracking open the cover quickly.

The magic poured out.


End file.
